


Why We Can't Have Nice Things

by irisbleufic



Series: Anthology 'Verse (& Related Errata) [6]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Adoptive Parents, Breakfast, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Jewish Character, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Relationship, Domestic, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Family, Family Feels, Female Character of Color, Furniture Shopping, Hong Kong, IKEA, IKEA Furniture, Idiots in Love, M/M, Or At Least Theoretical Furniture Shopping, POV Newton Geiszler, Science Husbands, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 15:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15246615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: “I didn’t wanna pry last night, but, like,” Newton tries, gesturing futilely, “what happened?”Ming takes another petulant spoonful of porridge, and Newton is glad Hermann’s still asleep.“She said you didn’t pay me enough for house-sitting,” Ming whispers.  “I gave her all of it, every penny, and she told me to get out.  To go back where I belong.”





	Why We Can't Have Nice Things

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet immediately follows [**_Inclement Weather / Acquired Taste_**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2635757) in [**_Anthology_ 'Verse**](https://archiveofourown.org/series/322133); it's set in January of 2027. It also further fleshes out some of the events so far in [the decade-later WIP](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14134593) in this universe.

**Hong Kong, 9 January 2027**

Newton hasn’t recovered from the previous evening’s horror show, and, from the look of her, neither has Ming.

Across the table, she’s red-eyed and exhausted over her rice porridge.

Less than an hour after she’d packed up her fish-and-house-sitting operation and gone home, she’d turned back up on the doorstep, with more backpacks and grocery bags than before, numb and shaking. _Mum kicked me out_ , she’d said, so Newton had bundled her inside. He’d taken her back to the spare bedroom, unpacked with her in silence, and all but tucked her in.

“I didn’t wanna pry last night, but, like,” Newton tries, gesturing futilely, “what happened?”

Ming takes another petulant spoonful of porridge, and Newton is glad Hermann’s still asleep.

“She said you didn’t pay me enough for house-sitting,” Ming whispers. “I gave her all of it, every penny, and she told me to get out. To go back where I belong.”

Newton wants to hug her and spoon-feed her and read her physics textbooks, but he squashes the impulse. Instead, he clears his throat like a responsible adult and refills both of their teacups.

“A thousand bucks isn’t enough for watching Bertie’s frilly-finned butt for two months? Noted.”

“I barely get to keep any of the money from my odd jobs,” Ming sobs. “I need a new computer!”

That’s when Hermann storms into the kitchen like he’s been eavesdropping from the hallway. Which he has been, probably, unless he really had just gotten up and decided to join them.

“I shall be having a word with your—your cultist _mess_ of a mum this instant!” he shouts.

“Her _what_ mess of a mom?” Newton blurts, almost dropping his tea. “Slow the hell down?”

“Not that I had ever planned on breaking your confidence, dear girl,” Hermann apologizes, setting his hands on Ming’s shaking shoulders, “not like _this_ , but it’s time Newton knew.”

“Mum’s with the Scourge of Heaven,” Ming hiccups, wiping her nose on a napkin. “She has been for years. Y’know the chanting nuns in red robes? Yeah. One of those.”

“Oh, swell,” Newton retorts, the sinking feeling in his stomach well past the laminate flooring.

“Hermann, you shouldn’t try to talk to her,” says Ming, quietly. “She’ll just hang up on you.”

Hermann sighs, releases her shoulders, limps over to the stove, and helps himself to the porridge. Refusing Newton’s wordless offer of help, he makes his way back and sits down beside Ming.

“Bring me up to speed,” he says gently, accepting tea Newton offers him. “What must we do?”

“If you’d let me stay until I save enough for a flat, that’d be great,” Ming replies, already calmer.

Newton remembers being away from home for the first time. He’d been so much younger, so much less _brave_ , than the young woman in front of him. He slams his mug down.

“You only have one semester left,” he says impulsively. “Stay till grad school for all we care.”

Hermann glances up at him in wide-eyed, hopeful dismay, and it’s then that Newton realizes he’s been thinking exactly the same thing. You would’ve thought Newton had just told him he can keep the stray kitten he’s found on the curb.

“The spare room’s in dreadful shape,” he says disapprovingly. “All well and good for temporary stays, but Newton’s things under the bed and in the closet have _got_ to go.”

“There’s no desk,” Newton cuts in, too elated to take offense. “We’re gonna have to get you a desk.”

Ming glances back and forth between them, blinking. “I don’t even have a working laptop.”

Hermann waves off her veiled protest, chugging half of his tea. “You shall have one,” he insists.

Pushing back her chair, Ming draws her knees to her chest and wraps herself tightly in her robe.

“I can’t do this to you guys, I can’t—look, can’t just barge into your life and _stay there_.”

 _Oh, sweetie,_ Newton wants to say, _you did that the second you showed up in class_.

Instead, taking into account that spring semester starts in nine days, he blurts, “Let’s go to IKEA!”

“That hardly deals with the emotional issue at hand,” Hermann grouses, “ _or_ the laptop.”

“The Kowloon Bay store has this kick-ass elderflower drink stuff,” Ming volunteers timidly.

Newton nods enthusiastically, stuffing his face with the last few spoonfuls of rice in his bowl.

“Dude, I know! And the restaurant has, like, zero kosher options for lunch, but Hermann can order the chicken meatballs from the kids’ menu while we scope out—”

“There shall be no _scoping out_ ,” Hermann scoffs into his mug, “without consulting me.”

Newton glances across the table at Ming, who’s doing her best impression of Hermann’s stiff upper lip.

She breaks when she catches Newton’s eye, almost smiling.


End file.
